


The Consequences of your Guilt

by Kaleido517



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ficlet, Implied/Referenced Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), SBI Family Dynamic, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), implied sbi family dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleido517/pseuds/Kaleido517
Summary: This is my first time posting my work on any site rip <3 um anyways this isnt the whole fic and i might upload the rest of it later if i actually finish it 😔 im not super happy with how the middle/end but overall im pretty happy with this fic :) any feedback is always appreciated !! some things are unexplained because im not smart enough to come up with explanations about how they happened ripmy friend has also written/posted his own version of this scenario, linked here! -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536297ALSO !! i feel like this is important to say, this was written right before the 'I can't any longer' livestream, in a scenario if Tommy was actually canonly dead. Everything in this fic is /rp /dsmp, and is about the roleplay personas in the Dream SMP plot
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	The Consequences of your Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting my work on any site rip <3 um anyways this isnt the whole fic and i might upload the rest of it later if i actually finish it 😔 im not super happy with how the middle/end but overall im pretty happy with this fic :) any feedback is always appreciated !! some things are unexplained because im not smart enough to come up with explanations about how they happened rip
> 
> my friend has also written/posted his own version of this scenario, linked here! -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536297 
> 
> ALSO !! i feel like this is important to say, this was written right before the 'I can't any longer' livestream, in a scenario if Tommy was actually canonly dead. Everything in this fic is /rp /dsmp, and is about the roleplay personas in the Dream SMP plot

The news that Phil received shook him to his core. 

Tommy was dead.

He blamed himself, who wouldn’t at the death of their own son. He could always trace the fault back to himself, no matter how far fetched it seemed. He could have listened more, supported him in ways others couldn't. He could have helped for fucks sake. He could have talked to Dream, or Tubbo.  _ Anyone _ in a position of power. 

But he didn’t. He had spent the last days of Tommy’s life out in the middle of nowhere, with his warrior-prodigy of a son, who didn’t need his protection in the slightest. Techno could help himself, he’d been doing it for years. Phil didn’t know why he didn’t visit his other sons more often, god knows they needed it.

He was distant for weeks, not knowing how to even start with the feeling. Techno had never been going at consoling people, or even talking to them in general. Phil didn’t blame him for it; He wouldn’t know what to do either. Techno had his own grief to work through as well, he couldn’t ask him for more than he had already given.

Techno did his best around the house, trying to keep the load off of Phil. He tended to the farms, cleaning, anything that attacked their home. Anything he could do to help the ominous feeling of despair that lingered around Phil anytime Techno saw him. 

He went on fewer trips to the village for the first week of grieving. He didn’t want to leave Phil by himself, out of fear of what could happen to him. If he’d hurt himself or someone else coming to hurt him personally, Techno wouldn’t take that chance. 

The day came where Techno opened their chest for food, and was met with nothing. Groaning in displeasure, he climbed back up the ladder into the living room, finding Phil where he had been for the last week, in the chair by the fire. The nighttime snowfall was silent, almost peaceful. The floorboards creaked under Techno’s steps, his abnormal feet creating a different sort of tune as he walked to the door. 

Suddenly, Phil was on his feet, his wings half spread behind him as he stood in front of the door. 

“You can’t go.”

  
  
Techno raised an eyebrow at him, confusion on his face as he spoke in response. 

“Why? What’s got you all worried?” he asked in his normal monotone voice, with a slight whisper of concern and confusion. They were low on food, Phil was being irrational. 

“You can’t go, not now.” Phil’s voice was husky, and his gray-green eyes darted to the night sky outside. “Not now,” he reiterated. “Not while it's dark.”

Techno huffed an agitated sigh, annoyed with Phil’s lack of trust in him, his skills. Phil’s wings twitched under Techno’s harsh gaze, and he shifted his line of sight over to the left slightly, breaking eye contact. 

“Fine.” he gave in, not wanting to stress Phil out too much. He still had so much to come to terms with, it wasn’t worth arguing. “I’m leaving at sunrise, don’t try and stop me.” he growled, dropping his bag by the door and dropping back downstairs to scrounge around for anything to eat.

Phil collapsed back down into the chair, the fireplace heat hitting his face once again. He squeezed his hands together nervously, trying to understand what had just come over him. 

~

It had been who knows how long since Tommy’s death, no one seemed to keep track. Phil hadn’t fully recovered from the shock of it all, anyone could tell. He had tried to make it seem like he was okay, that he could be there for everyone. He was back to making jokes, and helping out around the house, but Techno could tell, he wasn’t healed. He still had the guilt and fear lingering on him; none of his jokes had the same feeling to them, and he’d space off for hours on end, presumably thinking about Tommy, or what could have been. 

Anxiety had seemed to be a common thing for him now, after losing two sons. After losing Wilbur, it hadn’t been this bad, just him keeping an eye on Techno when he went on adventures or something of the like. It wasn’t that Wilbur’s death hadn’t affected Phil, but Will was still with them in a way, in Ghostbur’s presence. It was so much different now; Tommy didn’t have a ghost, and if he did, he hadn’t made himself known. 

Techno couldn’t leave the house without the sun being up, and if Phil wasn’t with him, he had to be home by sunset. Techno was understandably upset about it. He wasn’t used to the cramped, quarantine-esque lifestyle Phil had made. He needed to go out, fight, train, explore, anything to keep himself occupied. The anger boiling inside him didn’t help much either, white hot rage at Dream. Techno knew that he was directly involved. If he hadn’t threatened Tubbo and L’manberg, then Tommy would still be there, bickering but still brothers. 

Techno had told himself that he was changed, he wasn’t a violent man anymore. This changed that. He was actively hoping for a fight, a chance to cut and stab that green son of a bitch till he bled out on the snow, the dark red blood soaking into the snow, letting his family rest easy. The voices that he had tried to ignore for so long were now welcome, the constant chanting for the need for blood.

The thought followed him, day and night. He’d go to bed planning it and low and behold, he’d dream up all the gruesome details, how he’d flaunt around telling everyone that he’d done it, he’d avenged Tommy. He’d take Dream’s sword, his gear, anything he could and post it around the tundra, let the animals lick the blood off of it.

And when he’d wake up, he’d think about it some more, the voices ringing in his ears constantly. He couldn’t keep the thought out of his mind, but he wasn’t upset about it. The only thing bothering him was he had yet to carry out his plan. 

Phil would never let him set foot outside of the house if he were to tell him. He wasn’t exactly that sure what he would do, but Techno would never get over this anger, this need for revenge. Phil had become more and more overbearing, never letting him out of his sight, much less actually go out and fight. The calluses on his hands from handling swords and axes were gone, leaving his hands smooth and softer than Techno would’ve liked. 

~

The night had come. Techno’s anger was overflowing, hot and dangerous to touch. His mind was filled with steam, clouding his judgment, leaving one thing in his objective:  _ Kill Dream.  _

He silently gathered everything he needed, potions he had brewed months ago and dusted off his sword, slipping it softly into its sheath. He put on his armor, hoping the large cloak would hide all his gear. The tusks in his mouth were uncomfortably long, and his hands were itching to dig into flesh.

He poked his head up the ladder, checking on Phil. He was sitting in his chair, eyes stuck on the licks of fire that sent smoke up through the chimney.

He hoped he could sneak past him, or at least make it seem that he was just going out to check on Carl. 

“Techno.” Phil’s voice was low and husky, and Techno turned his head to look at Phil, but he hadn’t moved from his spot. Tear streaks shone in the dim light from the fire, heating up the small room.

_ Shit.  _

“You’re walking differently.” 

Techno stopped in his tracks, pulling his cloak around himself. “I’m fine, I don’t see what you could be worried about.” he shifted his weight around, hearing the ground squeak and rolling his eyes at the noise. He’d have to fix that soon, it was getting on his nerves.

“Are you going out to get something?” Phil asked, still looking at the fire, drying his eyes with his sleeves, smiling weakly. Techno could tell it was forced, even from this angle. His voice sounded small and knowing, like Phil knew what Techno's intentions were just from his few steps.

“No, I wasn’t.” Techno felt the drop of guilt in his stomach at Phil's small tone. “I’m going to kill Dream.” he mumbled plainly, already expecting the onslaught that Phil was going to throw at him.

Phil turned around sharply, getting out of his seat to confront him. At the sight of the armor that Techno was terribly hiding, his expression twisted into a face of fear. “No you can’t- please don’t do this, Techno.” he tried to solidify his tone, his voice cracking back into the desperate cry. “It's a long journey- I don’t want you to get lost or-” he stopped himself, recollecting his thoughts before launching straight back into a tirade of bullshit reasons.  “I don’t know if I can take care of everything- Farms or anything- don’t go, please- Techno please don’t go,”

“Why not?” Techno said, turning to the door again. “You have your own gear, Phil. I’ve fought him before, there's nothing to-”

Phil cut him off, grabbing at his cloak, stopping him mid-step. “Techno please- Please don’t go-” his voice was gravely, and when Techno looked back at him, tears were pricked at the corners of his blue eyes. “I can’t let you leave, not now. Please, I can’t lose you too-” his voice caught at the last word, but it didn’t matter.

Techno stood still in front of Phil, frozen in place. Emotions weren’t something he was good at working with, not at this level. Phil’s tone of voice and expression was overwhelming, everything spinning around him.

“Fine- fine- I won’t go now.” he gave in, resting his hand on Phil’s shoulder to ground himself. “Just- stop saying things like that.” he mumbled, shaking himself out of the strange trance. 

Phil’s expression softened, casting his gaze down to the floor as he let go of Techno’s cloak. “ _ Oh thank god- _ ” he mumbled, looking back up at his son, who stood a few inches taller than himself, and all the armor was making Techno tower over Phil. 

Techno avoided Phil’s gaze, opting to look into the fire. Shaking thoughts from his head, he gently pat Phil’s back, motioning him upstairs to the bedrooms. “It’s late, you should be heading to bed. I’m going to put the fire out, don’t worry about waiting for me.” he smiled at Phil, the tingle of guilt creeping up his spine.

He extinguished the flames that licked the cold air, the sudden shift in temperature obvious to Techno. He slipped his armor off, placing it softly by the door, careful not to make a noise. He flinched slightly at the small knock the metal made on the wooden floor, hoping Phil wouldn’t mind, or better yet, hadn’t heard.

Climbing back up the ladder, he noticed Phil in his room, flipping through a book in soft candlelight. Techno felt the stab of guilt in his gut once again, but he shoved it aside, solidifying his will once again. He needed revenge, and he was going to get it, tonight.

He walked into his room, running his hands over the bookshelves on the wall. The tough leather brushed against his fingertips, where calluses from bound hilts and hot forges once were. The strange current that flowed through him as he ran his hands over the enchanted books gave him a strange rush of excitement for the fight ahead of him. 

After a short while, after Techno was dead sure Phil was asleep, he stepped outside his room, trying to avoid all the creaks and grounds in the wooden planks. Quietly making his way down the ladder, he slipped the long cloak off his shoulders to put the heavy armor back on. The magic that had been inlaid into the material shimmered in the dim light of the moon, keeping him safe from all sorts of threats. The armor that once felt like normal now was strange on his shoulders, but a welcome feeling, one he missed greatly.

He missed this. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he opened the door, just a crack. The wind rushed in his face, snow flying in. The rush of cold air woke him up, snapped him back into the mindset he needed to be in.

The last shiver of guilt rushed up his skin, trying to drag him back into his house, back to his room, there for Phil when he woke up, ready to go about the day, the same loop over and over.

Techno shook his head, his long, choppy bangs brushing his nose and ears. He needed to go. It had been long enough, this was for the best. Phil would forgive him, he had to.

Stepping outside, the cold cut into his eyes and exposed skin. The scar on his face prickled, and Techno brushed his gloved hands over it. The faded scar stretched over his cheek, all the way over to the bridge of his nose. He got it somewhere in L’manberg, or Manberg at the time. 

He didn’t remember it well. He’d repressed most of those memories, or at least the violent ones. They haunted him, the terrified faces of his once friends. They were scared of his power, scared of  _ him.  _ All the people he killed those days, it lingered with him. Techno shook his head, ridding himself of the hazy feeling. __

Shifting his weight around on his feet to stand still, he pulled the warm fur over his nose, covering his mouth and nose. He took his crown off momentarily, slipping the skull over his head, pulling the loose braid free from the leather strap that held the skull to his face. The dust clogged his senses, and he reached to pull the fur down from his nose, blowing harshly. The condensation from his warm breath lifted from all the openings and cracks, clearing all the dust out of the main hollow. Pulling the cover back up over his nose, he stepped down the snow covered ground, walking over to Carl’s pen by the side of the stable. 

He clicked his tongue, getting the horse’s attention. He petted his nose softly, a small, sad hum in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, I can’t take you this time.” he mumbled, rolling his eyes at himself for talking to a horse. 

Trudging off against the storm, Techno’s nerves seemed to be firing off much more than in the past. He couldn’t understand it, he’d been doing this for years. He’d imagine every detail that went into this fight. But it didn’t help him, running through every possible outcome only seemed to make him jump to higher and higher conclusions.

Techno stopped for a moment, the wind whipping around him as he stood in the cold. He had to do this, for Tommy. Phil would understand. He knew Techno, he understood him, there was nothing to worry about. It was Phil’s fault that he had been cramped in the house for however long it was. Running his tongue along his tusks, he walked on, along the spruce forest.

And there he sat, waiting for Dream to come. The storm continued to rage on, loose strands of Techno’s pink hair flying loose from his braid, floating along with the snow in the air. His eyes hurt from the cold, with the skull mask blocking most of the snow from getting in his eyes. He gripped the hilt of his sword in anticipation, his knuckles turning white from the cold and his grip.

After what felt like hours, and what probably was, the familiar aura of enchanted armor came into Techno’s view.

Dream stalked over the hilltops, stopping at the top of the hill to look down at Technoblade and the surrounding area. There were trees stripped bare of any green it had, fallen logs and gray, snow drenched rocks scattered the area. Old stone pillars that had been weathered away from years of storms not unlike this one scattered the land, dangerously close to collapsing in on itself. The terrain itself was a valley like area, hills surrounded the majority of the deepened area, with an outlet into the spruce forest. 

Dream stalked down the hill, standing a few yards away from Techno, but close enough for his voice to carry over to the other man. His mask sat crooked from the wind, but he wasn’t worried about it. It wouldn’t matter by the time he left the white hellscape.


End file.
